Mathematics
by Arsenic Allure
Summary: One plus zero does not equal two. George tries to cope.


**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling is a genius. This is hers, scene manipulation is mine. Also, lyrics are from 'Where I End and You Begin [The Sky is Falling In' by Radiohead.

**Mathematics. 1/1**

_I can watch and not take part  
__Where I end and where you start  
__Where you, you left me alone  
__You left me alone._

…

The way is shut.

…

Everything comes in twos.

Two candles.

Two wands.

Two chairs.

Two burn marks.

…

One mirror.

One mirror is the force of the quotient.

One room is divided.

One room is symmetrical.

Four beds.

Two people.

One heart beats.

Four rivers of tears.

Four brown eyes.

Two hands clenched.

Two palms flat on the glass.

…

Two hands touch.

One surface is cold.

One surface is hard.

Ten fingers connect at the tips.

Five feel.

Five do not.

…

One ear is exposed.

Two are concealed.

Three ears in a room.

One hateful, _holey_ dissimilarity in the side of one head.

…

Two toppings of flaming hair.

Two red tops of hair are lank. Stringy. Greasy.

Two heads have not been washed for days.

…

One stomach rumbles.

One stomach rumble echoes. It feebly makes up the loss.

One stomach is not the only thing empty.

…

Two doors open.

Two piles of washing move.

Two girls walk in.

Four hands place a food tray on the worktable.

Two girls sit on a bed.

Four thumbs fiddle.

Two heads bow.

Two red heads of hair move.

Eight eyes watch.

…

Two additional girls come in.

Eight brown eyes.

Two brown heads.

Four gazes watch the approach.

Two girls sit.

Four girls on the bed.

Two boys on the floor.

Seven ears.

Three hearts beating.

Four people in the room.

…

One sob.

One memory.

'_If one of us die—'_

'_One won't. Two won't'_

'—_the other goes on.'_

'_We won't—'_

'_We might. The survivor keeps the dead one's wand.'_

One twin dead.

One pound to the glass.

Zero flinches.

…

One voice. _I hear him_

Two voices. _We know._

…

One voice. _I see him._

Two voices. _We know._

…

One hushed whisper.

_I can't touch him._

One brown head nods.

One red head nods.

Two voices chorus, _We know._

…

Eight shaking heads.

Four thumbs stop moving.

Four hands unlace.

One misted breath.

Three voices. _I miss him._

Six heads move.

Four shoot to eight feet.

Two turn around.

[Two holes in two heads

Twelve eyes meet.

Two quiet affirmations, _We know._

…

One voice.

_I need him._

Two sighs.

Six locked stares.

One loud silence.

Two soft shudders.

Two shaking shoulders.

Eight arms around two shoulders.

Twelve knees on the ground.

Four cooing girls.

Two mourning boys.

Zero hands on the glass.

One mirror in an elaborate, gold frame.

Four beds in the room.

Two empty liquor bottles.

Four persons half gone.

Two hardly around.

One twin dead.

…

Two fists hammering.

Four girls shouting.

One mirror shattering.

…

One bloody hand.

Two girls fussing over one boy's injury.

One wand waves.

One wound heals.

Infinity is left behind.

…

Two wands on the worktable.

One tray a mess, discarded.

One mirror smashed.

Nine long, glass shards on the ground.

One candle is blown out.

…

Three large shadows stretch across the room.

Five patches of black fill in the gaps.

One moon's light blocked.

Two curtains drawn.

Three on the bed.

Three hearts beat.

Six streaks of tears down six red cheeks.

Two girls in one boy's arms.

One boy in two girls' shared embrace.

Three raging memories through three tired minds.

One dead boy the star.

…

One voice.

One warning.

One desperation.

One voice. _I'm not him._

Two replies unhesitant.

Two voices. _We know._

…

One voice. _I love him._

Two voices. _We know. We do too._

…

Three hearts beat.

Four eyes close, fluttering, unsure.

Two bodies, as the moon rises in a starless sky, breathe deeply in sleep.

One body does not.

Two eyes stare at spots the in the darkness.

Two eyelids fall.

Two eyelids rise.

Two eyes have blinked back tears.

…

One body rests on the table.

Fifty others are a blur.

Two feet stumble closer.

One disbelieving cry escapes his lips.

One choked whisper.

_Fred?_

One imagined reply.

'_George.'_

One wild thought, spoken out loud, choked in his throat. _I can't keep my promise._

One assurance is needed.

Zero comes.

One memory resurfaces. '_I won't be able to.'_

Two dancing eyes twinkle.

Eight teeth shine brilliant white in his wicked grin. '_You will, George. I know you will.'_

…

One hand clenched one boy's shoulder.

One hand rested one boy's arm.

One drained vessel asks the key question. _How did he die?_

Two hands tighten. _Laughing,_ one voice answers, specific, professional and factual.

One voice was stronger than the rest.

One family is broken.

Two close friends watch too.

One has her hand on the survivor's forearm.

Eighteen stricken eyes trace one dead twin's face.

One ghost of a smile.

One fight to reign sobs in.

Four tears down one boy's cheeks.

One forced swallow.

_Laughing?_ asks he.

Six sighs around him.

Two hysterical moans, one male and one female.

One distinctly controlled voice. _Yes._ _Laughing, George._

…

Two boys stirred their tea in the Burrow's kitchen.

Seven slept upstairs.

Two teaspoons clinked softly against the side of the cups.

'_If one of us had to die—'_

'_How would I? I'd die laughing.'_

'_Laughing, Fred?'_

'_Laughing, George.'_

…

_Well, Fred,_ George whispers to the night.

Two girls rest in his arms.

Three hearts beat.

Six arms reach out for two companions.

_Guess laughing is what you got._

_The way's to follow, innit?_

…

One boy laughs.

One empty boy laughs hollow, barren sounds.

Two girls wake up.

Four arms tighten around one boy's torso.

Two voices in one ear. _Shh. We know, we know, we know._

Two cooing tones.

Two hands stroking his hair.

Two hands rubbing circles on his chest over his grey undershirt.

One boy asks, _You know?_

Two girls say,_ We know._

_I want to die laughing too._

_We know._

One red head asks, _You know what else we know?_

One brunette continues, _You are going to live._

_And then, eventually, you'll die._

_And eventually we will all die, too._

_He'll still be gone._

_We will see him after death._

_Hear him._

_Imagine we can touch him._

_Need him._

_Miss him._

_Love him._

_And then we'll all die laughing too._

One boy cries into the curve of one red head's neck and holds one brunette's hand.

Six leaking eyes.

…

Three hearts beat.

Three in a bed.

Four brown eyes.

Two blue eyes.

Two are closed.

Four are open.

Two voices ease words into the dark.

Two hands rub circles on one boy's chest.

Ten fingers run through one boy's flaming red hair.

Three minds remember one twin dead.

One plus one equals two.

One plus zero equals one.

One boy cries.

Two girls soothe him.

Two girls understand.

Two girls know.

Two girls help one twin left behind.

Two lungs breathe easier.

Two wands lie together on a worktable.

Two wands are bound with Sellotape.

Three people together.

One boy goes to sleep.

Two girls flicker watery smiles.

Two girls stay all night long.

Three people embrace in the dark.

…

One sun rises.

Four feet on the distant second-floor landing rouse the house.

Three wake in one bed.

…

One twin dead.

One twin left.

One sister.

One friend.

Three people in the waning dark.

…

_How many in a trio?_

Ginny hugs him tightly. _Three, George._

_How many in a duo?_

_Two, George._ Hermione says.

_How many in a singleton?_

Two girls frown.

Two voices.

_One, George._

Six arms are still.

Two eyes close.

One whisper cracks one boy's throat.

_I miss Fred._

_We know._

_I love Fred._

_We know. We love him too._

One crack in the curtains shines in one strip of golden light.

One beam reflected.

Three streams pool on the floor.

…

One bed is awash with an offensive yellow glow.

Three people blink.

_Are we a trio?_

Two nods move against his spotted chest.

Two hundred and twenty six freckles in all, Fred had counted.

One living memory of one dead twin, missing an ear, tries not to expect anything.

Two strangled whispers.

_We love you, George._

Two squeezes from one boy's two hands befall two girl's clutching holds.

Two girls are one boy's lifeline.

One smile.

One ghost of a laugh.

One voice.

_I know. I love you too._

…

Three in a trio.

Twelve limbs untangle.

Three people sit up.

Two stretch.

One flick of one girl's wand.

Nine shards disappear off the ground.

Two lips on one boy's two cheeks.

Two pecks good morning.

Two women walk out one door.

One empty frame, missing its silver, leans against the wall.

…

Nine glasses raise high in the air.

Seven Weasleys and two pseudo siblings congratulate one replica.

One equals two.

One man smiles.

One ghost of a laugh.

One boy will die laughing too.

One day.

One month.

One year.

Two women beam special smiles to him.

Two women mouth, _not yet._

One man agrees.

…

Two feet plod to the wall calendar.

One spark flies out of April.

One smiling voice.

_Happy Birthday, Fred._

Twenty-year-old George walks out the garden door.

One man sits amongst nine people.

One half of two smiles at his trio and revised clan of eight.

Nine minus one.

Eight equals sans Fred.

…

One man remembers his twin's annual, rare whisper.

'_Happy Birthday, George.'_

One twin, long lost in the future, wakes his one brother at five in the morning and grins brightly.

Four words move their mouths in a practiced chorus.

One kiss from Fred brushes his forehead. George turns back over, content to smile sleepily.

Three bounds and Fred is back under the covers and snoring ten seconds later.

Two quiet affections linger on his mind the morning of their nineteenth birthday as sleep overtakes him and he falls into dreams of jokes and mockery.

Four words and one phrase each.

Eight words and two phrases overall.

Infinity of meaning always left behind everlasting vows.

…

Three Gryffindors in a sunroom.

Three brave to the final conclusion of one life long lived.

One ghost of a laugh is left on one man's wrinkled face.

Two women stoop on each side, taking one hand each.

Three grey heads.

Ten or twenty silent tears stream down their two cheeks.

Two croak in the silence of his last chuckle. _We love you both, Fred and George._

…

One plus one equals two.

Two is not a trio.

Two equals a duo.

Two equals twins.

…

One man meets himself after death, each twenty-years-old.

Two embrace and repeat because this one young adult died aged one-hundred-and-fifteen on their birthday in April.

…

'_Happy Birthday, Gred.'_

'_Happy Birthday, Forge.'_

…

'_I love you, George.'_

'_I love you, Fred.'_

…

The way is open.

**-AA-**


End file.
